Tattooed Daisies
by awesomeprussian1947
Summary: Destiel flower shop/tattoo shop AU. Dean's shop moves in next door to Castiel, and the flower shop owner isn't initially pleased. Rated T for language, rating may change. Written for whiskeydean on Tumblr. I'll try to post a chapter once a week, but things have been rough so it's kinda tough.
1. Chapter 1

Being awoken to the sound of trucks roaring outside your home isn't exactly pleasant. But that's what was happening now. Castiel curled up further in his bed and groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and pressing his pillow tightly against his ear. It was too early for this, the sun was hardly up. He should still be getting an hour of sleep! He groaned and shook his head. Great, now whoever was driving the truck was yelling. There was another car... It was loud, but not a truck.

Instead of just continuing to guess, Castiel finally rolled out of bed, falling on the floor in the form of a human burrito. He wriggled out of his blanket and dragged his feet all the way to the window, squinting outside. Oh yeah, someone was moving in next door, alright. The shop next door, previously a hair salon that just hadn't been working out, apparently got sold. Castiel rubbed sleep out of his eyes and sighed as he headed to take a shower. He wouldn't be sleeping anytime soon. Not with that ruckus. A nice hot bath would do him wonders, though. He hadn't slept all night, having forgotten to take his sleep medication, and it showed on his face. Gosh... He'd scare his customers like this. He fished out some underwear and pajamas from his incredibly disheveled wardrobe and tossed them on the bathroom counter, shutting the door behind himself as he started preparing for his day.

He was a florist. Yeah, kinda girly, but he loved flowers. They were beautiful, they smelled nice, the made people happy, and most importantly of all, they kept the bees happy. He had a few orders he had to finish up... Ugh, and he needed to see what was happening next door. He had really ennjoyed the quiet... Maybe it would be a bakery or something, something nice and happy. Yeah... Hopefully.

Hopefully it wouldn't be anything too crazy.

"Son of a- Watch where you're going!" Dean hissed as he jumped back from just nearly being knocked over with a couch. The movers, two men, mumbled apologies and headed in the store. Dean sighed deeply and rolled his eyes. Irritating... Ah but that was probably just because it was so early in the morning. No one should have to be up this early! The city was still asleep, only birds flitting around with the occasional car zooming by. _Poor idiots, _he thought to himself, _up so early in the morning willingly..._ But he had to be up. They had to start getting the shop ready.

What was the shop? A peek at his arms easily explained. Tattoos and piercings, that was his job. Well, he did tattoos, his brother did piercings. They ran the business together. Weird skill for the family to pass down, but they'd all been heavily inked and full of holes. Dean loved his job, but Sam...

He slowly twisted around when he heard complaining about the weather, the time, the cold, and being hungry. Sam didn't really like his job, not at all. He didn't have a single piercing or one tattoo. He didn't want to get involved at all, but Dean had talked him into it because damn, the boy had a quick and steady hand. Not as much as Dean, but... Well, he needed the help.

"Dean, this is so stupid! Couldn't we have, I don't know, come at a later time? It's five in the morning! I only wake up at five in the morning when I'm going for a run! My sleeping patterns are gonna be al-" Dean gave Sam a look of such despair that his brother shut up immediately. Neither of them wanted to be awake, clearly, but this was the only free time the moving company had for another week. "Why don't you go play with the neighborhood kids, huh Sammy?" Sam gave his brother a look, but sulked away anyways, probably to search for someplace that sold, as Dean called it, rabbit food.

"Good talk!" Dean called, snickering as Sam flipped him the middle finger. He turned back to moving, and for the next half hour, it was mumbles back and forth between him and the other men. He looked rather comical in fact, indigo mohawk and multiple piercing along with a black shirt that boldly in white read, "Surf naked." Probably not exactly inappropriate for his job, but along with three men in grey jumpsuits, clean shaven and stiff, he looked out of place. Who cared. He certainly didn't. He liked the way he dressed! He pouted to himself at the mere thought, memories of disgusted looks and crude comments drifting into his mind. He shook himself out of those thoughts, however, and got back to moving stools into the shop. He couldn't be distracted by that right now. He wasn't supposed to care.


	2. Chapter 2

Castiel rushed through breakfast, which was a bowl of cereal without the milk and a tall mug of coffee, and tripped his way down to the flower shop. Though he loved such a graceful plant, he himself could be rather clumsy in the mornings. With a heavy sigh, he tied his apron on, and began to prepare the first batch of flowers.

_THUD._

He paused, frown etched across his face as he listened to what exactly was going on next door. It was a bit muffled, but these walls were old, he could still hear quite a bit. He'd have to get them re-sound-proofed for his customers. And himself, of course. He did enjoy the quiet that came from the shop; not many people felt the need to make too many loud noises.

"Son of a BITCH! Don't just drop heavy furniture like that! How the hell do you work for a moving company?!" The voice sounded annoyed, and rather tired. He didn't want to check. He had work. There was another voice, this one laughing and seeming much more at ease. "Sammy, go easy on him, we're all up early. Don't be pulling any bitchfaces at this time of day. Hand me that chair, put it over here. A bit to the right... Perfect!"

"Dean, you're a jerk."

"Bitch."

That voice was certainly more pleasant.

As Castiel milled around his shop, getting things ready for the day, he kept an ear open, listening to the two as they worked. Sure, it was annoying hearing all that furniture move around and he was mildly pissed that they were disrupting his morning, but they were also rather amusing.

"Dean, where's you put the alcohol?"

"Alcohol? Sammy, no drinking on the job."

There was laughter, and a whacking noise. Alcohol? Maybe he meant rubbing alcohol...

"I'm serious, I can't find it. You brought that box in, where is it?"

"Don't know, check the back."

There was pleasant quiet for a few minutes, and Castiel nearly forgot in favour of prepping a bouquet of amaryllis, wrapping them in pretty purple paper, and he nearly dropped them when he heard a shriek from next door.

"What the _fuck _Dean?! Seriously?! Of all places! Of all fucking places, Dean!"

Dean was cackling loudly. Castiel heard a loud, muffled thud, and assumed it was Dean's body, either from laughing too hard or from Sam tackling him. His curiosity grew more and more through the morning, listening to them bicker and banter back and forth. Maybe they were married. Yeah, only couples fought like that.

Or siblings.

Castiel's siblings were almost all either dead or in prison for various crimes. He was the only one who hadn't stolen, killed, lied, or anything similar. Too scary, that path. He much preferred his flower shops and his 'save the bees' campaigns. Of course, growing up in such a rough, big family, he did learn how to shoot a gun, and at a remarkably young age, too, but he never used that skill.

Thinking of his siblings saddened him, so he focused back on the roses in front of him He was skilled to the point where he never pricked himself anymore so that wasn't an issue. He finished the bouquet just as it rang eight o'clock. Time to open. Simple, pull up the blinds, bring out fresh flowers to put in the buckets outside and attract customers, and flick on the big neon 'OPEN' sign. As he ran through the errands, his mind stayed glued to the two men next door. He'd have to greet them. They'd screwed up his morning and distracted him, and he hated them for that. And they seemed loud and wild; at least, Dean did. Sammy seemed stuck up. But he decided it wasn't fair to judge until he met them, and his therapist had told him to stop thinking about the future if it made his anxiety act up, so he focused on arranging the flowers outside and forced his thoughts away from Dean and Sammy.

Dean had been whacked upside the head enough times by his brother to know that it was going to be a bad day. Sure, Sam was in a bad mood, but it meant that he got to talk to more people, where usually Sam wouldn't let him. The shop next door had been eerily quiet (the other side was a clothing store for women and the shopkeeper had already whacked him with her purse at flirting, so he decided to steer clear of her), but he decided he'd check it out later. Gotta get the shop ready. They needed everything ready by tomorrow, ready to open. He had a few customers lined up already, old friends and friends of friends, and he'd promised to help them first as soon as possible. It had taken a month to find this place... And another two months to finally buy it. Hopefully this would actually pay off or he'd be pissed to hell and back.

"Dean, look, there's the guy from next door. A guy owning a flower shop?"

"Hm?" Dean glanced out the large windows at the front of the store and raised a brow when he spotted his neighbor. Certainly was weird. He looked detached, arranging flowers in front of the shop and very focused on making them perfect. Weird much? Eh... He'd greet him. Maybe he could be a cool guy.

"Well... I mean, he looks kinda funky, but I'm one to speak, right?" He chuckled, then turned to fixing the cash register. "But I mean, I can go with funky. Funky can be cool too. And he's cute, gotta give him that." Sam groaned at hearing that. Dean was bisexual and very, _very _open about it. Sam was gay, and he preferred to stay quiet. There was very little they had in common, actually.

"Whatever... Just, don't bully him or flirt with him or scare him off. We're going to live next to him, we need to make peace."

Dean nodded, going back to the cash register and going quiet. His last relationship hadn't gone well. Really, he only flirted for fun, but he didn't want to actually form a relationship for a long time.

"Sammy, wanna go get me a sandwich?"

_THUD!_

Yes, it would certainly be a good day.


	3. Chapter 3

After working all morning through tedious rose petals and tigerlilies, arranging irises and tulips, everything looked perfect. He'd already had a few customers, and two orders had been picked up. Really, the only problem was that the confounded banging and throwing from next door never ceased once. He could hear drills and hammers, awful, deafening machines, and the two men bickering still. It was getting incredibly irritating, and already he'd had several customers complain of the noise. But he simply smiled, explained, and stayed patient.

Until something happened that was just too far.

Something hit the wall, hard, and he only just turned his head around to watch a half dozen or so flowerpots fall to the ground and shatter. He stood absolutely still for a moment, a smile frozen on his face, staring at the mess of broken pottery and dirt. Then he angrily thrust his apron off and marched out the store in a huff, headed to the store next door. Inside, the two men were bickering, yet again, and there was a dent in the wall. He was getting strange looks. No doubt he looked pissed to hell, and for good reason too! He'd worked for hours on those flowers, weeks spent growing them, only to be ruined by a pair of buffoons! Dean was the first to see him. He certainly looked... Odd. Colorful... "Need help, buddy? Ya look worked up." Castiel nodded, peering slowly at the other. "Yes, I would like some help. I'd like you to come and clean the mess you've made in my store from your ruckus." Dean stared at him for a moment, seeming to analyze him, before he burst into laughter. Apparently, Castiel didn't meet his standards.

"Are you okay, buddy? I haven't touched your store." He leaned in close and squinted at the other, an amused smile on his face. "Hey Sammy, come check it out! I think he's our neighbor." Sam glanced over (Castiel noted that he didn't look a thing like his brotherm oddly) and frowned at Dean. "Leave him alone, Dean. Need any help?" Castiel bristled and took a step back, shooting Dean another glare. Stiffly, he repeated, "Yes, I would like you to come clean the broken pots in my store. Your ruckus knocked them over." Sam nodded slowly, his gaze flickering to Dean. "Uh, wanna go see? Sorry, it's been kinda hectic with moving. Must have happened when we slammed the sofa on the wall. Left a pretty big dent because _someone_-" He glared at Dean, "-couldn't keep himself from goofing off."

Dean waved Sam off and looked back to the irritated flower shop owner. "Sorry. Show us where it is and I'll fix it up for ya. Pots, huh?" Castiel nodded, shifting a bit. He wasn't used to this place or these people, and he wasn't used to talking. "Yes. I own a flower shop." The two brothers exchanged nods, and Dean shrugged. "Okay flower power, got a name? Or I'll keep calling you flower power." Castiel noticeably flinched at the nickname. "What- no, don't call me that, that's ridiculous. My name is Castiel. I assume you two are the Sam and Dean I repeatedly heard?" Sam raised an eyebrow, and Dean straight up shot Castiel a look. "You... Heard all that? Really? I'll have to soundproof the walls, newbies can be loud, heh..." Sam shoved him and muttered a few words (no doubt telling him to shut up, until Castiel cleared his throat. "Shall we go?" Sam nodded, while Dean was still trying to hold back laughter.

The part about cleaning the actual flowerpots was fine. What made things awful were the comments flying easily past Dean's lips. "You a romantic, Cassie? Ever given any of these flowers to anyone? A girl? Or maybe a boy, if you're into that. How long do these things take to water? How much water do you waste a year feeding pretty plants that serve no purpose?" Castiel could only turn the radio up a bit while they worked, Sam doing most of the work and Dean mostly babbling. At long last, they finished, and Sam left as soon as he could. Castiel didn't patronize him; they were still moving, after all, and needed all the time they could get. But Dean... He stayed. "Hey Cassie-"

"Don't call me that."

"Aw, why, don't like Cassie? Alright, how about Cas?"

"That is a butchered version of my name. My name is that of an angel, and should not-"

"Okay, Cas it is, then! Hey, do you have any poisonous flowers?"

"No, Dean, I do not advise that-"

"Ah, okay, fine. You're no fun. What about herbs?"

"Well I do ha-"

"Cool, nice. What about a date?"


End file.
